


Lotor's Journal

by GreatWhiteShark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Cheating, Death, F/M, hinted sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatWhiteShark/pseuds/GreatWhiteShark
Summary: Prince Lotor is 10,000+ years old. Here are some of the stories he recorded during his travels.[Lotor x Reader] [One-shot Collections]





	1. Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Lotor locked up, Reader takes the time to pass on judgement about the Prince.

“You know....they _hate_ you.”

 

Prim, proper, stock still with your hands folded behind your back, your appearance reminded Lotor of his Governess, Dayak. Even from his sitting position on the steps, he could feel the familiar sternness radiating from your being. Lotor’s unblinking stare flicked to your eyes, but he held no challenge behind them. He has dealt with this distrust before and he will most likely deal with it again. And _again_. And **_again_ **.

 

“I am aware of this,” he spoke plainly, fingers crossed in the same proper way yours were, “It matters not. We all wish to achieve the same goal in the end and that is of the utmost importance to me.”

 

Your eyes flickered to the floor, not in hesitance but more in thought, “They don’t…I don’t believe they are in the right to judge, is all.”

 

Now, _that_ got Prince Lotor’s attention. Yes, Allura and Shiro were much more of the head of their group than the others, so how they viewed and value Lotor was more vital. You, however…you were a simple refugee. A coalition soldier who had no place to call home anymore. No doubt thanks to the Galra Empire _swarming_ like hungry locusts to any planet with life available. It was one of his biggest shames to be related to that part of his father’s history and he couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at your oddly kind words.

 

Lotor said nothing, but it seemed you had much more to say to him, “My people…The V’salipar, we live in the now. We _thank_ in the now, we **judge** in the now. We **_punish_ ** in the now. All we ask is that we be viewed in the same light.”

 

Yes, you joined the coalition forces for good reasons, good hopes and dreams. They took you and your survivors in when dangers were high and survival chances dropped in the single digits. _Proud_ , _strong_ people with equally _proud_ and _strong_ souls. News of Lotor’s assistance did not fall on deaf ears, though you wished to understand the Prince’s intentions in person. He seemed genuine, _tame_ even, behind that barrier and, perhaps, this would be the only time he would be this docile.

 

“What I’m trying to say is,” you continued while he remained silent, studying, “ _Thank you_. For…saving the coalition in that battle. For saving Voltron and for…for joining the fight against your father.”

 

You could not possibly know the relationship between him and his heritage, nor of the culture he grew up with when it came to his father, Zarkon. Regardless, you already made your choice to trust his actions, for now. You were part of the proud, strong people, but you had a **soft heart** . An easily _delusional_ heart that, with Prince Lotor, you wished with all your _soul_ he stay true to his word. How did the saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. In this case, who was the _enemy_ and who was the _friend_?

 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he stood up fully and walked as close as he could to you, “I would shake your hand, though given the circumstances, I must resort to simply saying this: Thank you. It is not easy to undo thousands of years of war and desolation, but perhaps, _this_ …this is the first step.”

 

And that was enough for you to trust him in full.


	2. Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader doesn't like the sound of thunder.

**** Prince Lotor was like thunder, in every sense except  _ literal _ . The commander was firm in his actions, resolute that his plans, his ideas, his orders, would be followed with little to no resistance. At least, that’s how it has always been on his ship. No one disobeyed or argued against him or voiced their disagreements. There were two reasons you noticed why: one, those that questioned him have often gone missing. And two? His voice did not waver in the  **_slightest_ ** .

 

Perhaps, that was why you were scared of him. You were good at your job post, yes, but that didn’t mean you did not feel a trickle of fear when he stepped by you or sat on his command seat to overlook the deck. Was fear even the right word? You respected him, like any other crew member. Trusted him to overlook your safety as well as his own. Maybe the reason why you were truly scared of him was because he was the physical embodiment of your biggest childhood fear: the sound of rolling  **thunder** .

 

Yet, there was a thrill when Prince Lotor spoke, like seeing an oncoming storm. His eyes flashed lightning, his voice warned of the approaching thunder. It both  _ excited  _ and  _ scared  _ you. Perhaps, you can even say…it  **aroused** you to an extent. Such conflicting emotions did not go unnoticed by the Prince, however, and maybe it was out of pure curiosity that lured him to follow you around. Discreetly, of course.

 

At first, he started humming. You could hear him from across the hallway wherever you turned. It gave you shivers up and down your spine, but your ears,  _ oh _ , they adored the sound. The tune reverberated so wonderfully, it made you waver in your steps. It even made you hitch your breath in odd  _ anticipation _ . Lotor’s voice was like a haunting melody following your every move, from the moment you awoke to the time you slept.

 

Next, came the direct orders. Normally, there was a chain of command for the grunts. It’d usually be Acxa speaking to your supervisor, then your supervisor passing down the demands. But the  _ gracious  _ Prince Lotor has sought you out personally lately. You would stand stock still, straight up like a true soldier, and feel your heart’s pace quicken in your chest. Much to Lotor’s amusement, he would see your eyes flick quickly to his lips, those lips caging his deep,  _ baritone  _ voice.

 

"Soldier, what is the status of the damage done in sector 88-E?” his voice held no inflection of his real intentions, but that didn’t stop him from noticing your lower lip quiver just a bit.

 

“S **ir** _ e _ ,” you cleared your throat, trying to dislodge that nervousness stuck in there, “T-The sector will be repaired within the next hour. There were no casualties from the attack.”

 

“Very good. That will be all. Return to your post.”

 

You gulped and let out a shaky sigh. How the bloody hell would you ever get over this…this… _ fixation _ ? Eventually, this problem began showing up in your work performance. Simply put, you had a hard time sleeping, for every time you shut your eyes, you could  _ hear  _ his alluring voice. It kept you up until the late hours of night and plagued your dreams in the best of ways. It was… _ unhealthy _ .

 

That’s how you found your exhausted self set on auto-pilot. There was always something that needed fixing in this ship, so you occupied your time with repairing and checking systems. A tweak here, adjustments there. It was mind numbing, but very welcome in comparison to a certain Prince’s voice. However, the silence would not last forever, and quite soon you heard the tell-tale signs of that cursed  _ humming _ . You swayed slightly when the bane of your existence turned a corner, those footsteps only adding to his ominous approach.

 

“Soldier, what  _ ever  _ are you doing up so late? You should be in the barracks with the rest,” he asked flippantly, though if you strained your ears, perhaps you could have heard the pinch of concern.

 

But yes, he did take note of your tired appearance. Heavy eyes, slouching form, sluggish movement. No, certainly this would not do. His soldiers must be in tip-top form, regardless of how amusing it was to watch you squirm when he so much as  _ whispered _ a single word. You didn’t know this, but he could hear your heartbeat quicken. He could even… **smell** the arousal between your legs. It was fun toying with you for the time being.

 

He was a captain above all, so if his crew had a problem, he would help in any way he could.

 

“My apologies, your…majesty,” you yawned, a hand coming up to cover your mouth, “I’ve been having difficulty staying asleep. I figured that some work could help with my problem.”

 

Lotor stood taller now, gazing down at you and studying every word that left your mouth, “And what is this  _ problem _ , soldier?”

 

Now, your eyes widened a smidgen and you stared up at him in hesitancy. Your lips remained shut in a firm line, unsure how to exactly tell him that the problem was  _ literally  _ standing in front of you. A few seconds of silence filled the void while Prince Lotor waited patiently for your answer and you know if you didn’t give him one soon, you would be demoted…or worse. _ Sent away. _

 

“ **Speak** .”

 

“I-ah, I’m afraid of…” you flushed in shame, eyes flicking down to stare at his chest plate, “…Thunder. Sire.”

 

He raised an elegant brow, demanding you expand a bit more. Yes, he knew you had a fascination with his voice. Though, he had not realized it affected you so deeply. Lotor saw you swallow in anxiousness, but he had a gut feeling that you weren’t nervous because of his commanding status. You were nervous of him pulling out these confession from you. This admittance of yours was not the norm among his soldier’s gossip. This was a struggle you deemed fit to handle alone. A common mistake.

 

You worried your bottom lip, shoulders hunching slightly as if to shrink into yourself, “And you do have a…forgive my rudeness, but your voice is thunderous at times. I am a little afraid of it.”

 

You decided to keep the part about being  _ turned on _ out of that confession.

 

“Hmm, that will certainly not do,” he folded his hands behind his back, “Come with me, soldier.”

 

**Fuck** , he was going to send you off. That shame built up tenfold and you silently followed him, feeling the strong urge to just cry. This was your post, your home now. You almost wanted to beg him not to relocate you. Drop to your knees and  _ plead _ . When you looked up, your captain was…sitting on the floor? Against the wall? You blinked owlishly in confusion, the scene actually made you think you were dreaming. Or delusional.

 

“ _ Come  _ here, soldier,” he ordered again, but this time he patted his chest, “I will not harm you. I believe this can help with soothing your fears.”

 

You did as you were told, moving to sit besides him with your legs splayed out in front of you. His were… _ so  _ much longer, admittedly. Lotor cleared his throat, getting your attention as he waited in expectation. Right. His  **chest** . You shifted awkwardly and laid your head on him, a little cautious just in case you would anger him with how close you were to your commanding officer. Nothing of the sort happened, but you did feel a large hand come up to hold your shoulder as a way to steel you against him.

 

And then, he started  _ humming _ . Low enough that not only could you hear the thunder rolling over your ears, but you could also FEEL it vibrate through his chest plate. The rumble made you instantly tense and Prince Lotor noticed almost immediately. He started casually rubbing his hand up and down the length of your arm in hopes to calm you down from your rising anxiety. It did help that he was also so very warm to lean against, so warm like a bonfire in the deepest corners of space.

 

“Fret not, for I shall  _ not  _ hurt you,” Lotor spoke in a rare, gentle tone, one you didn’t think a man with such a voice was capable of, “ _ Rest  _ now, soldier. Let the thunder guide you to a land of pleasant dreams. Let my  _ song  _ calm the fears in your soft heart, let me  _ chase  _ away the dark clouds forming in your mind.  _ Permit me _ your soul, so that I may share my voice for your  _ protection _ .”

 

Prince Lotor peered down at you and felt a small ounce of pride swell in his chest when he saw you already deep in slumber.


	3. Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader gets kidnapped and Lotor lets his rage get the better side of him.

The battle was lost. Prince Lotor was a strategist, a good one at that, but not even he can be victorious at every fight presented before him and his generals. He always calculated the pros and cons, the dead and alive, even which sacrifices were  **absolutely** necessary for survival. Zethrid was the strength, Narti was the observer, Ezor was the unknown variable, and Acxa was the one to reason out his plans. All of his generals represented his assets and ideals, like a chess game he often found himself playing in the late of night.

 

This time, though, there was  _ another  _ piece he had not expected joining the battlefield.  _ Another  _ outcome he had not foreseen.  _ Another  _ risk he unwillingly took.

 

Lotor’s sharp eyes scanned the wounded crowd filing in his ship, taking note of each and every soldier. He and his generals had led the battle front against an unruly group of rogue coalition forces. They didn’t  _ quite  _ follow the same morals like Voltron’s allies did and they sought to bring down the Prince first and foremost. He would commend them on their strategy, though. Let Voltron deal with Zarkon’s forces while they take out the next in line for the throne.

 

However, while his army was out, he had left you in the safest place away from the battle. He trusted you to overlook his protection from the throne of his ship. Cover him if he should so need it. Then, it was gunshots and your panicked voice screaming in his helmet that alerted him something was very,  **_VERY_ ** wrong. It wasn’t only him that felt their stomach drop in heavy trepidation. His generals ended their respective fights quickly then looked to him for guidance, but all he could do was stare at his ship with widened eyes filled with  **panic** .

 

You weren’t there when he hastily returned. Only injured soldiers and exhausted crew member s followed him in. Your face wasn’t mixed in the crowd and with each second he wasted ignoring the  _ what-ifs _ , the more likely his mind told him **it** had happened. You were  _ taken _ , **_kidnapped_ ** , right under his nose. Not just you, no. Everyone that was stationed to stay at the ship was gone or stabbed and bleeding on the floor.

 

“Acxa, bring up the monitor recordings from 10 minutes ago,” his voice was laced with unbridled rage, but he did a good job keeping himself in check.

 

_ For now. _

 

Acxa did as she was ordered, the hologram screen displaying one of his biggest, deep-rooted fears. There, with undeniable proof, was you ordering the small crew around the deck. Shouts could be heard and then a loud **BANG** surprised all of them as a bomb burst open the door. You had fought, _stars_ , you had **fought** _so hard_ and he was **damn** proud of you for that. Laser bullets took out half of your protectors easily while many foot soldiers swarmed you and the survivors.

 

You  _ punched _ , you  _ kicked _ , you  _ struggled _ , you fought valiantly, but when he saw one of the rogues slam the butt of a rifle against your head, Lotor had to shut his eyes from the reality of the situation dawning on him. How did they manage to sneak in, first of all? How did they know who to snatch right under his nose? Whose head was he going to have to sever to find out? But most importantly… _ were you alive? _

 

“Sire, we are being hailed,” Ezor announced from her control pad, “It is..It’s Commander V’hilar.”

 

One cold stare was all Ezor needed to patch through the heathen who stole what was most precious to him. His death glare focused on the screen, eyes taking in every detail he could  _ possibly  _ see. Anything that would help locate this scum who dared touch his  _ beloved _ , what belonged to the prince, what was rightfully his to protect. To  _ love _ , to  **care for** . To be by his side until the end of time.

 

“Prince Lotor, son of Emperor Zarkon,” oh, he wanted to  **rip** that throat out, feel the blood seep through his nails and watch the life drain from his eyes, “You and your father’s reign of terror will end. I will make this short,  _ your life or your crews. _ Come alone and unarmed.”

 

Lotor’s lip twitched, that animalistic snarl rising to the surface of his carefully covered facade. The will to stay firm, stay strong in the face of what he deemed a cursed, vile being, was slowly chipping away from his grasp. Who was this  **_heathen_ ** that deemed to make deals with  **the** Prince Lotor? As if he was in control here? His cosmic eyes drifted to the prisoners, the hostages, chained behind this…this  _ monster _ .

 

Each and every one of them were bruised, beaten badly, and near death. It was a miracle they were standing at all. One was even bleeding profusely and…and s _ tars and moon above _ , it was  **YOU** . A gurgled cough erupted from your chest and he felt his own clutch in cold, dripping fear. That did not sound good at all. You were standing on one leg, if  _ standing  _ was even a word for your limp. It was obvious to everyone in the room that you were struggling, heaving to barely catch a breath in your broken ribs, but you were  **alive** .

 

Prince Lotor could do  _ nothing  _ to relieve your troubles. All he could do is watch helplessly with seething rage boiling in his very soul. And when you looked up at the screen, looked at him with eyes wet with _ agonizing pain? _ He wanted to hold you oh so dearly in his arms, to apologize with gentle touches and kisses, to swear you will  **_never_ ** be taken from him again.

 

“You have one week to arrive at my coordinates,” the commander held up a gun at one of the prisoner’s skull, “And for every day you are not here,  _ one  _ of your crew members will die by my hand.”

 

The bullet was as loud as it was deafening, but Lotor’s gaze was stuck on you and how you had flinched at the sound. It was a  **countdown** . The sickening  _ flump  _ of the body hitting the ground made you swallow in pure horror, knowing that in just a few days, that will be you. Blood seeped into the floor and the splatter on the wall had Prince Lotor seeing red, _ seeing murder _ , seeing exactly how he will tear this monster  **limb from limb** .

 

You were trembling both in life-threatening fear and inexplicable pain. Lotor could do nothing but curse the stars that ripped you away from him.

 

When the transmission ended, Prince Lotor completely lost it. With a mighty,  _ hate-filled _ roar, his primal side stabbed his claws into his captain’s seat and he uprooted his throne as if plucking a dead flower. He launched it at the window in burning fury, absolutely despising how trapped he was,  _ how  _ he let this happen,  **_how_ ** you were slowly dying in his enemy’s grasp.

 

“ **Generals** ,” his voice was deeply-seated with an unholy amount of rage, the type of rage that destroyed planets and everything living within it, “ **We are on a rescue mission and I will** **_not_ ** **tolerate failure.** ”


	4. Burning Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotor is preparing for his ceremonial dance, but it seems he has captured the attention of a curious Reader.

Fire, by all common knowledge, was hot, painful, and  _oh so_  dangerous. It was a living thing, consuming and burning any who stood in its furious path with no mercy or forgiveness. They say that cremating oneself was a way to prepare for Hell, for the heat would sear into your very soul to incinerate your sins and serve as an appetizer for what awaits the corrupted. Such words did not do justice for the fire dancing at Planet Feyiv. No, that flame, _that sacred flame_ , was something much worse. Much more vicious, much more cruel, much more ruthless.

 

For it did not die by water. It did not die when there was nothing left to burn.  **It dies when it so chooses to.**

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of a sword slicing through the cool, night air drew your attention from atop your wooden perch. Another  _schwing_ , this time faster, and it fully woke you up into alert mode. Someone was here, close, and swinging a very lethal weapon around you. Peeking from your spot well-hidden in the trees, wondering what lunatic was out this late practicing sword fighting, your eyes locked onto the figure of a man. A...white haired, Galra man.

 

Your eyes widened in recognition, for even someone of your status knew that was the infamous Prince Lotor. Well, actually, _just_  Lotor. He wasn’t an official Prince yet, not until the coronation acknowledged him as one. It would explain why he was way out here, half-naked, and dancing  _oh so_ alluringly with a shimmering blade grasped in each of his hands. The way he moved, flowed like rushing water before striking with the brightest lightning, it …  _scared you._

 

He could kill you. And that was more than enough to tell you to  **run**.

 

Lotor glanced in your direction, feeling curious eyes roam over the expanse of his back, and when he targeted your silhouette, you felt a chill touch your spine. Why did it feel like you were the one intruding on  _him?_  Regardless, that was your cue to flee. And flee you did. With careful, nimble steps, you hopped from tree to tree as far away from him as possible. The night was quiet again, save for the trickle of water passing in a nearby river.

 

* * *

 

 

The fireflies were flitting about in the forest, so you knew it was going to be a good night. You sated your childish desires and jumped at them here and there, chasing them without a care in your life. Each one you caught, you held in your hand as if they were a tiny star that you could call your very own. Orion. Leo. Pisces. _Nebulae._  Cometa.  **Galaximus**. You would never see them again when they flew off, but it mattered not, for like the stars above, the number of fireflies around you was countless.

 

It was... _something_ about their glow. Yellow, red, green. Blue, orange, even  _white_. Attracting mates, from what you remember. It was fascinating how easily they glowed like that, like they were blinking to the night stars, communicating with them. You wanted to glow for someone one day, too. Knowing your luck, you would shine a vibrant red in a sea of blue. Mates were one thing,  **compatibility** was another.

 

You carelessly trailed after another firefly, completely immersed in your one-track mind, before the sharp end of a blade swung an inch within your vision. Your body  _ **screeched**_ to a sudden halt when that life-threatening sword stared you down, your knees buckling from under you. The quick rush of adrenaline shocking your body almost made you sick to your stomach. Eyes wide with pure horror, you held your breath while the sword’s owner studied your fear-stricken expression.

 

Lotor’s eyes were glowing yellow in the dark and you found that you could not look away, could not pull your gaze to anywhere else, for you were trapped.  _Ensnared_.  **Captured**.

 

Stars and moon above, he was ** _beautiful._**

 

Lotor had hoped you would come back tonight. He meant you no harm and to show it, he slowly lowered his sword away from your face. Perhaps it was his keen instincts that made him jump the gun, so to speak. All he heard was a rush of footsteps behind him and, lo and behold, he automatically poised himself in preparation for an inevitable attack. He could’ve nearly decapitated your head clean from your shoulders.

 

When the sword was down and the threat of death was no longer hovering above your nose, you scrambled up to your feet and immediately ran behind a tree. The trunk would hide you, yes, but Lotor was no fool and you were dishonorable to think him one. Or rather...perhaps  _you_ were the fool here? His ears twitched as he strained them to hear your heavy breathing, those glowing eyes of his still staring in your direction to see if you had run further into the forest.

 

No, you were  **still** there. He could hear your little heart beating  _oh so_  fast.

 

Lotor turned his back to you, not at all concerned that you would attack him. No, in fact, if he was to take a wild guess, you wanted to... _watch him_. Study him, make sure he doesn’t attack you again. Play it  **cautiously**. He could respect that. Fireflies floated around his body, illuminating the sweat glistening on his back from practicing his dance. With the utmost concentration, he raised his swords again, crouched low with one leg reaching out for balance, then twirled the blades with a smooth motion of his wrists.

 

If it was a show you wanted, Lotor certainly did not mind indulging a forest nymph.

 

It was considered _good luck_ , after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Every night Lotor danced, he saw you creep closer and closer to him. He would commend you on how stealthy you were when you put your mind to it. At first, he was hesitant about keeping you around as an audience. Though, as days past, he slowly began looking forward to these quiet, silent nights for two reasons. One, having you around would prepare him for having a thousand eyes watching him, judging him, waiting for him to make a mistake.

 

And two? Lotor found the company strangely... **euphoric** on an astral level.

 

You said nothing, but neither did he. There was a mutual understanding of each other's presence. The  _most_  he would hear from you was the crunch of an apple or the shuffling of leaves when you shifted in the trees. Sometimes, the  _most_ he would see of you was your arm or leg hanging freely over a branch, telling Lotor that you had fallen prey to the needs of the night.

 

The dance was hypnotic and you fell victim to it _every time._

 

* * *

 

 

And then came the  _ **fire**_.

 

It was burning amethyst, wild, and  _dangerous_. Lotor was a fool to bring it in the forest. Surely he knew water was ineffective against it if so much a dried leaf lit up? But oh, it was... _so_  gorgeous, darkening in shades of lilac as wisps of artic blue disappeared in small flecks. It glowed a deep, vibrant violet hue with every expert turn of Lotor’s wrist. _Dance for me, let me gaze upon your beauty._ The blades were not simply torches, they were coexisting with the flame.  _Hold me, for I am dying and you are my sanctuary._  Living with one another as if two lovers were clinging in a final embrace.

 

It was beautiful to see, like watching a comet smash a moon into fragmented pieces. Savage, but a force of nature  **demanding** to be acknowledged.

 

Lotor’s hair flowed with his practiced maneuvers, the pale strands gleaming with the radiant, orchid flame as he spun the sword through a figure eight motion. His wrists were joined together and they only separated when he suddenly leaped through the air, his bare muscles flexing as a show of strength. Those hands were still whirling the flame-lit blades, but this time they were outstretched at his sides. It was almost as if he was protecting himself, shielding his lean body in a cocoon of lavender fire.

 

A  _warning_ to his enemies, a way to ward off unfriendly predators. Though, to you...it was something completely different.

 

When he landed gracefully on his feet once more, chest heaving from the exertion of the jump, he saw your hooded eyes transfix on him. No, not  _him_. Not  _specifically_. You were enamored with the blades, the  **fire** that was licking his body mere seconds ago. Even in the dark with only the glow for light, he could see your pupils expand in want. He could see your hand reach out to him, to those bewitching swords of his.

 

Lotor yanked the blades back, preventing you from satisfying your curiosity. It was for your own safety, he reasoned to himself. However, you had already felt the brush of the flame radiate to your fingertips. You snapped out of your reverie as he suddenly knelt down in front of you, those nebulous eyes staring deeply into your own aroused ones. The nerves on your fingers tingled pleasantly.

 

And they were  _ **cold.**_

__

* * *

 

 

The next night, Lotor had you in his lap. Your back was flushed against his bare chest and he was amazed with how  _docile_ you were now. His larger body kept you caged against the chill of the night, though he had a gut feeling the cold was the  _least_ of your concerns. He had caught you,  **finally** , but something was telling him that it was the other way around. Lotor may have had both of your hands pinned in his one of his,  _for your safety, of course,_  yet that didn’t explain why he couldn’t stop nuzzling behind your ear.

 

Lotor was  _sickly intoxicated_  by you.

 

His palm was open in front of your face and, normally, that wouldn’t be of any interest. The true reason why you were so compliant, so  _relaxed_ , was because his hand was  _ **on fire**_. Cold flames danced and twisted into the night sky as little fireflies fluttered around his fingers. They didn’t die, no, in fact...they  _lit_ up. Only for a few seconds before it would extinguish immediately once they flew too far from his palm.

 

You wanted to touch _so badly_. Lotor did, too.

 

His lips pressed against the vein of your neck, so soft, so  _warm_. So... **inviting**. That dastardly tongue of his slipped through his teeth and Lotor licked up the column of offered skin, leaving behind a wet,  **hot** trail. This was the fire you knew, the fire of passion  _searing_ into your skin and lighting your soul for him to feel. He was going to  **burn** you alive, yet you were going to cut his heart into a million little pieces.

 

Lotor sighed and pulled your body harder against his, more than okay with nipping and biting here and there. He would allow himself a moment of longing, of needy kisses to fulfill his selfish desires. His heart  _wanted_ this, wanted to keep you all to himself, wanted to engulf your glow until nothing but darkness remained. In his arms,  _ **forever**_. Lotor nudged under your chin, making you tilt your head more and reveal that luscious skin to his hungry mouth. He angled himself so you could look at him instead, stare into those eyes reflecting the fire’s dance, _look at me_ ,  _ **only me**_ , then he planted his lips upon yours.

 

Just like the burning flame, he would  **consume** all of you.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lotor was  _ **ready**_.

 

He faced the masses, bare chested and chiseled with only a long cloth to cover his crotch, a proud mirror image of composed perfection. An emperor, a king, a  _deity_ , worthy of their doubtful and judgmental gazes. He could see his father and mother on the throne, armored with piercing eyes and a demeanor that only came with 10,000 years of ruling the universe.  _My greatest shame._ **A smear on Galra history**. A challenge flashed before Lotor’s eyes before drifting down to look at you.

 

Kneeling,  _scared_ and  _confused_ ,  _ **trapped**_ and  ** _bound_**. Your eyes,  _oh_ , they were so wet as you begged him silently for an answer.  _Why am I here? I don’t want to be here. Let me go. Let’s go back._ This was too open for you, too much staring and exposure, especially for someone who spent their whole life away from the capital. There was a good reason for that, too.

 

Lotor took a step closer to you. You flinched away. His stoic expression softened as he crouched to your position,  _lower_ even, as if displaying he wasn’t here to hurt you, you could trust him.  _Trust him like before_  and, when those violet flames danced in his eyes again, you conceded. So soft,  _so gentle_ , how could this man be anything but a saint? He proved himself again by unlatching your restraints and tossing them into the fire pits. These will no longer touch your skin. You were  **free**.

 

But you didn’t run. You didn’t want to, _not without him._

 

His hand came up to brush the back of his knuckles over your cheeks, wiping away any stray tears that fell from your eyes. Your heart lodged in your throat at the intimate caress.  _Hold me and love me and cherish me._  Lotor would do just that, he would cup your jaw in his larger hand, he would stroke his thumb over your bottom lip. He would pull you in for a  **searing**  kiss,  _burning_ with raw emotions and primal  _want_. That was all he needed to do to silently tell you everything will be okay.  _Let me take care of you._

 

**I love you.**

 

The music began and the haunting flames in the pits flared to life, standing over the two of you like the titans of space and time. Lotor picked up his blades and twisted it once,  _twice_ , before  _ **swiftly**_ slashing them through the fire. It lit the steel in gorgeous mixes of cobalt and amethyst and you couldn’t help but part your lips in awe at the violent power before you.

 

Lotor lowered the tips of the blades to the ground _, eyes on me,_  and watched as the flames traveled to circle around you. The chill grazed your toes and you instinctively pulled yourself closer before the fire dissipated into thin air. He  _thrust_ his sword into the sky, crouching like a panther ready to strike, and moved with the grace of a shooting star. Lotor started slow,  _teasing_ , testing his own willpower against the forces of nature itself. It was marvelous to witness him bend the flames and fan the desires swelling in your chest.

 

Then, he danced  _ **faster**_. More agile, more  _swiftly_  than you’ve ever seen during the nights you two spent together. His blades criss-crossed, hissed before the crowd, and he dragged the flame  _oh so_  closely to his body covered in a healthy sheen of sweat. He swayed like a drunken snake, but you knew better, you’ve seen it with your own two eyes. You know how he moved, how his dances were a beautiful collision of a black hole and an exploding nova.

 

Both pulling you in and  **scorching** your very being.

 

Lotor’s focus then honed in on you, just like the first night he saw you hiding in those branches. Oh, but this time, things will turn out  _much_ different for you. He knew this time you wouldn’t flee, for your feelings for him were more than skin deep. It licked your very soul. It  _stoked_ the fire in your heart for him and only him. And he would have it no other way. You were his,  _ **finally**_ , and no one but himself could ever make you feel so  _alive_.

 

He  _rushed_ at you, too fast for you to blink, too fast for you to react  **at all.**  But  _oh_ , the way he twisted his body, enchanting you into a lull sense of safety, rid any thoughts of danger floating around in your mind. A sharp  _schwing_ resonated in the air and you twitched, the  **scalding** sting of pain cutting into your throat. It didn’t quite reach into your brain yet that you had just been severely injured as the comforting cool of the lilac flames coated your wound.

 

There was no scream, not even a  _gasp_ , that escaped your lips.

 

Blood seeped out of your neck so beautifully, like a fountain of life seeking to claim new waters, and Lotor could see that same light drain from your eyes. Your deluded eyes, full of  _admiration_  and  _obsession_ , so lost in his sensual dance that it hadn’t even registered you were  **dying**. He showed no pity, for his feelings for you were  _true_. He  _ **loved**_ you, he  _craved_ you so much, and nothing, not even  _death itself_ , will tear you away from him. He decided your  _fate_ , your  _choices_ , your  _ **life**_.

 

You were his in  _mind, body, and soul._

 

The fire had numbed the wound and begun spreading to unexplored territory. He let it roam your body, freeze your skin and numb all your senses. Lotor brought the blade up to his mouth, devilish tongue already out, and pressed it against himself for a second. The bittersweet flame tickled his nerves and, before it could spread, he closed his mouth and ate it.  _Swallowed_  it whole so the chill merged with his soul and  _bound_  you to him. Both in this life and the  **next**.

 

This was a show, proof that he could take an innocent life with no  _mercy_ , no  _regret_ , no  _ **hesitation**_. It was the true meaning of VREPIT SA.  **Victory or death.**  Here and now, he will gain the trust of the masses by taking your life. You, who didn’t run, didn’t  _flee_  when given the chance.  **You** , that showed with undeniable proof how powerful the  _illusion_ of compassion can be.

 

Lotor’s dance was finished. Your kneeling body became devoured in the purple flames and he saw your spirit embark into the unknown. He fulfilled his duty and now you were to follow yours, _whether you wanted to or not_. Lotor was right, you were his good luck. It will be your ghost that will forever haunt his steps and remind him of his goals.

 

And of his  **love**.


	5. To Break A Geode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Lotor discovers how fickle emotions can really be between Allura and Reader.

“Stay away from Lotor,” she said, “He can _not_ be trusted.”

 

There was a condescending tone in Allura’s voice when she commanded the group to obey her order. One that you recognized when Keith was outed as being half-Galra. You didn’t like it, but the team came to an unanimous agreement anyways about the Prince. Bringing an arm up to rub your elbow, you glanced down at your feet in slight discomfort. One voice couldn’t win versus six, so against your personal judgement, you  _followed_ the crowd. Perhaps you were just...surprised with the sudden turn of events.

 

Given, you didn’t trust Lotor at all either, but it left a bad taste in your mouth to just treat him like a caged rat after he swooped in and saved everyone. Not just Voltron, but the coalition and Blade of Marmora as well. Then again, you knew how the Princess thinks. You knew how  _everyone_ in this room thinks. Weighing the good deeds versus the bad. That’s all this war really was, right? Fight evil with the universe’s strongest weapon to come out victorious for all subjugated free-kind.

 

Once everyone had filtered out of the room, sans Keith, you sent him a worried glance.  _Did he hear that same tone, too?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Knuckles softly rapped on the metal door, though you were sure the Princess could hear you over the hum of the Castle’s engine. The door slid open and Allura’s brows rose up in curiosity, to which you sheepishly waved at her. Those dual-toned eyes showed you everything: she was tired. Exhausted.  **Stressed**. And she had every right to be in the middle of this abrupt change of plans. Her familiar gentle expression came back when you offered her a kind smile. The smile of a close friend.

 

“Come in, come in,” her room was, well, suited for a princess, “What are you doing up so late? I thought you humans loved to sleep?”

 

Allura sat on her bed, patting the plush blanket besides her, and you followed suit with a small laugh, “We do,  _but_ I just wanted to...well, Allura, about today, when you said - how are you holding up?”

 

Her smile faltered just a bit at your question.

 

“I mean, with everything. Are you... _you’re alright?_  Earlier, you just seemed a bit…” you waved your hand in a circle, but Allura’s heavy sigh halted your words.

 

“I...” she started, face downcast in slight shame, “I suppose with Voltron almost being destroyed as well as all of our hard work - our _months_ of planning only to fail - everything has been a little...taxing.”

 

“Hey, you and me both. And the team. Everyone was just  _way_ too tense. Made me a little nervous too, y’know? You could cut the air with...with a flaboxian knife. Flabo _ **sc**_ ian?”

 

Allura finally,  _finally_ cracked an honest smile at your joke. That wasn’t the right word, but she appreciated the way you were comforting her time of need with that horrendously, incorrect Altean accent. You were all friends on this ship and as such, you found ways to ease the Princess’ heart when her duties became too heavy on her shoulders. The Princess meant well, you know it. She was royalty, yes, but still maintained that positive outlook on life. Sometimes, she just needed a friend to show it to her once in a while.

 

“Here, c’mere,” you opened your arms, offering her a hug and she surprisingly accepted it without a fuss, “Just take a  **deep** breath, alright? All this stress is gonna give you white hair.”

 

“I already have white hair.”

 

Another laugh, this time from the both of you. She pulled away with an appreciative smile gracing her face. Your hand rubbed up and down her arm, making sure she was fully relaxed. You noticed Coran do this for her several times and, once you asked her if it would help, she agreed to let you try during one of her more emotional and vulnerable moments. And, well, you’re damn glad she trusted you.

 

“...I suppose with Lotor here, on my ship, the stress keeps stacking up like that Tetrix game. Is that the one? The one with the blocks,” Allura asked and you grinned, happy she too was making light of the situation with lame references.

 

“Yeah, one of my favorites,” your eyes flicked to the side momentarily before you took a deep breath, “...Allura, about Lotor...I think we should - I’m going to talk to him.”

 

Instead of returning back to her order hours ago, she shook her head in disapproval, “I do not think that is a great idea. He’s cunning, a  _snake_. You saw how he could take down Voltron just by himself. He has an ulterior motive and I don’t trust...”

 

You gently squeezed her arm, thumb rubbing little circles on her sleeve, “What? So we’re just gonna...keep him in there?  **Forever?** ‘Till he passes out from boredom? C’mon, Allura.”

 

Her eyes swam with uncertainty, for your safety, for the team’s safety, for the universe’s safety.

 

“It’s  _your_ ship,  _your_  rules, but I really think if we gave him one chance…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The catwalk to the cell wasn’t the hardest part. Neither was staring down the infamous Prince Lotor. No, the most difficult part of this whole situation was beginning a normal conversation with the exiled man before you. He had watched you the entire time, minding your every step, every sway of your arms, even the bounce of your hair. Since team Voltron had carted him off to this cell, he has had no one visit his prison. Well, that is, until  **now**.

 

In fact, he had no idea who you were. The intel his generals gathered led him to believe you were a stow-away, some unfortunate refugee team Voltron took in out of their bleeding hearts. Nonetheless, Lotor did not like that he had no useful information about you. He stood to his full height, most definitely dwarfing your smaller self, but you only offered him an innocent smile and open heart.

 

“Hey, can I get you something while you’re there?”

  
  
He arched a sharp brow and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Now, you squirmed uncomfortably and waved your hand in a loose motion.

 

“The..Paladins are busy at the moment, but I can bring you a,  _uh_ , book? A meal?” you tried again and, this time, a spark of curiosity flicked behind the Prince’s eyes, “C’mon, I’m not trying to interrogate you or nothing. I’ve been in your position before, I know how boring it gets in there.”

 

Well, if you wanted to play like that, then he supposed he would allow it. _Just to pass the time_ , he reasoned. Your odd sense of kindness was refreshing after all the events that took place, but _oh no_ , he would not admit that out loud. Lotor’s eyes softened, just a bit,just to give you a fake sense of security, then he sat himself back onto the marble sofa. Not the most comfortable spot, but prison is not meant to accommodate anyone’s wants.

 

“Yes, I suppose some company would be appreciated,” with every word he spoke, your smile grew, your trust grew, “You are an Earthling, correct?”

  
  
“Uh huh,” you plopped onto the floor in front of his cage, hummed then looked up, reconsidering your answer, “Well, I - sorta? I was abducted.  _Peacefully_.”

 

Those two words did not go together in Lotor’s mind and it only made him want to ask more questions. It must have shown on his face for you chuckled lightly at how silly “abducted” and “peacefully” seemed to contradict each other. To him, it sounds like you willingly surrendered. Were you that foolish of a human? Lotor waited patiently for you to continue as your laughter died down, allowing a short silence between you two.

 

“It’s...a long story.”  
  
  
“Darling,” Lotor finally cracked a small smile, “I am not going anywhere.”

 

Your eyes lit up, “Alright, so, we have this endangered species on Earth called tigers...”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lotor stood in front of your door, tall and regal and, strangely, wondering why he was here. He had his own personal agenda to do, his own plans he needed to follow, yet his feet led him to your room. And in his hands? A bowl of what Hunk called “chicken noodle soup.” Yes, a strange flu has been making its rounds around the castle, though it only seemed to be affecting humans. The Alteans and himself were considered lucky.

 

He knocked on the door and, once he heard a faint “ _Come in,_ ” the entrance opened. There, laying under a thick comforter in the dimmed room, was you in all your sickly glory. Rosy nose and cheeks, sniffling with tissue scattered over your lap, and a holographic screen floating in front of you. A quick glance and he saw you were looking at pictures of tigers. Lotor tsked, eyes lowering in disapproval, but you only met his look with a bashful one of your own.  **Caught**.

 

“You are supposed to be resting, are you not?” he stepped in, three large strides, then sat at the edge of your bed, “I believe it was  _Shiro’s_ orders.”

 

“But I am resting!” a flat, blank look from him, “Aw, c’mon...you gonna rat me out? Tattle on me? That’s pretty lame, Lot - Prince Lotor.”

 

“I will do it,” blunt and to the point, then Lotor offered you the tray, “Only if you do not finish your meal. Hunk said, and I quote, ‘ _The only thing that should be left is the spoon_.’”

 

“Does he want me to eat the bowl too? Yeesh,” but you smiled and Lotor mirrored it unconsciously, “But, really, thanks for bringing it.”

 

Lotor gave you a nod and let you eat, his eyes wandering around your room. A Voltron poster signed by the crew, some odd plant, a showcase of what looked like gemstones and...rocks? Crystals? You saw his inquisitive gaze stick to the glass and, with a grunt to get his attention, you pointed at the display in excitement. If you didn’t have the bowl of very hot soup on your lap, he wouldn’t have doubted you’d jump up and get it yourself.

 

“You know what those are?” you motioned for him to get one and he did, bringing you one of the more larger rocks, “Here, I’ll show you. These are geodes. You got geodes on - ah,  _look_ , I’ll just demonstrate, okay?”

 

You were practically vibrating in your seat while you dug into your bedside drawer and took out a laser tool. The soup laid forgotten for now, but Lotor was intrigued by what he first thought was junk ore in your hand. It certainly looked like garbage, but judging by that knowing gleam in your eye, you were about to teach him a thing or two about geology. You pushed the tip of the laser pen close to the rock’s surface, just about ready to flick it on.

 

“Ooh, this is the best part,” you turned it on, a humming red glow cutting into the surface and Lotor’s pupils focused intently on it, “What do you think is gonna be in it? Quartz?  _Calcite_? Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some opal _ **!** ”_

Your enthusiasm was contagious and Lotor was now waiting in... _anticipation_. Forget the food, forgetyour sickness, he wanted to know what was inside this rock. What has gotten you so riled up that you would even forgo your own meal and your own illness? Once the laser cut through all around the rock, you placed it on his hands, but all he did was...stare. What was he supposed to do with this?

 

“Now, you just crack it like you’re opening an egg,” you made the motion with your hand and Lotor followed suit.

 

The geode opened with little force and Prince Lotor actually flinched in surprise by the loud noise. He was definitely not expecting that, but when the shimmering crystal glimmered in the dull light of your room, he parted his lips in awe. It was so... **purple**. Deep, dark shades of wine slowly mixing into soft lavender greeted his eyes and he felt like he found a _sacred treasure_  no one else had discovered before.

 

“ _Oooh_ ,” your eyes widened at the mineral, “I was hoping for a cool gem. Balmera has so many different stones, much more different than Earth. But, hey, it’s amethyst! Wow, I haven’t seen one so opaque before.”

 

“Amethyst, you say?” he repeated while bringing it closer to his face, “It is quite...gorgeous.”

 

“Isn’t it? And there’s even more mysterious ones in those geodes,” you felt better, whether it was the soup or spending time with him, you weren’t sure, “Hey, why don’t you keep that one? It suits you.”

 

Both of you conveniently missed each other’s flushed cheeks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Allura noticed. Her sharp eyes saw the way Lotor’s gaze would slowly drift to stare at you when everyone was in the same room. She could hear the soft inflection in his voice every time he answered one of your curious questions. She noticed how casually you two would sit close together and even go as far to playfully touch his shoulder or allowhim to place his hand on the small of your back. You two were happy, but Allura was  _not_. She was suspicious.

 

“- and he told me that the Galra have this thing called, uh, c...cnark…cnarktyqgw...” your hands paused in braiding her hair as you tried to remember how to pronounce the word, “Ah, well, I can’t say it, but apparently it’s a type of gem that changes colors depending on your mood. Isn’t that the coolest thing ever? I want one!”

 

Allura was worried about you. So happy, so care-free, so easily manipulated. Or, perhaps, she just didn’t want Lotor to take you away from her. She didn’t want you to get hurt. Who else would be here to offer comforting hugs when life became too overwhelming for her? Who else could possibly talk so freely to her like an actual friend? Who else will gossip childishly about how the latest fashion on Earth was simply horrendous? Allura felt you continue your braid, but you had gone quiet, whether because you were reminiscing about your time with Lotor or you were too focused in your handiwork.

 

“You two are getting  _awfully_ friendly,” there it was, that faintly concealed threat, but even you could hear the hint of concern.

 

“Well, yeah, we’re great...friends now,” your cheeks tinted at that, “I think I like him.”

 

And yet, when you said those words, Allura’s heart softened. You were genuinely delighted. Delusioned, perhaps, but happy. As your friend, was she not supposed to intervene?  _Protect_ you? Enforce her warnings even more? As your friend, was she not supposed to be just as cheerful for you? You, who supported her. Wasn’t it time she did the same? Allura decided that now was a good time to get to know Lotor more. Set some boundaries, so to speak.

 

“Is...that a bad thing?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Darling, a word, if you have time,” Lotor, ever the proper Prince, stood tall and serious in the observation deck.

 

You were sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to your chest and arms caged around you for self-comfort. Allura had told you their plan to turn him over to Zarkon in exchange for Pidge’s father. You knew why they agreed to do it. They cared so much for Pidge and her struggle to find her father. It was the emotional choice and, if you hadn’t met Lotor before, you weren’t sure if you would completely disagree with their decision. Now, though, things have changed. Your  _heart_ has changed.

****

“Y...Yeah?” your voice was shaky from crying and after you stood up, you hastily wiped at your tears before facing him.

 

Oh, Lotor was **_falling in love_** with you. When you looked up at him with wet eyes, openly distraught and vulnerable, his heart felt the urge to protect you. So, he did. He brought a hand up to gently thumb away your tears, but the touch only urged more to fall. Your frown deepened and he carefully brought you close in a tender hold. Instantly, your arms wound around his waist, clutching him in hopes to stop time itself.

 

You could not help but let one thought run through your mind:  _Did you not deserve happiness?_

“If this is to be our last moment together, then may I kiss you, little nova?”

 

_May I give you a piece of my love should fate deny me another day to live?_

You gave him your answer by nearly leaping up on him and meshing your lips with his.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Emperor now, huh?”

 

“Are you  _surprised_?”

 

You huffed at him and his cocky, little smirk, but holding him in your arms, you can not even begin to tell him how relieved you are he was alive. After the Kral Zera fiasco, leaving you worried and alone a second time, you had half the mind to bop him one right across the face. Instead, you cupped his jaw and released an exasperated sigh while his hand gently combed through your hair.

 

“I was...concerned, maybe,” you admitted to which his grin only widened even more, “Okay, I was  _very concerned_. You came back all broken and bruised, what was I supposed to think? You fell down the stairs?”

 

Lotor chuckled at the irony, “Then allow me to alleviate your worries and repent for my past grievances. Would you care to join me for a walk through the garden?”

 

“As long as you tell me where you got each and every plant, then yes.”

  
  
He liked that about you. The never-ending thirst for knowledge. Though, while strolling through the thicket of his carefully laid out garden, he had to cut the tour short. The lab called him about a new discovery and, while you were happy he and Allura were working together now, it did make you a little sad he had to leave so suddenly. You knew nothing about this magic they were researching on, but regardless, you occupied your time with snooping around the ship. Perhaps find Lotor a small gift to drop on his bed, something to show you still appreciate all he has done for Voltron. For  _you_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Allura hadn’t meant to let him hold her hand any longer than necessary. In the heat of the moment, of her doubts when it came to the Altean knowledge hidden in her mind, she allowed Lotor to quell her thoughts. He was comforting, encouraging, and gave her all the right words to  **boost** her confidence. Lotor was actually...friendly. _Just like you._  That was why you two stuck together like stars and space.

 

“I  _can not_  do this without you,” Lotor pleaded, eyes imploring for her help.

 

You were able to befriend him, and more. She took your advice with a grain of salt and decided to give him a chance, only because she knew it would make you proud. To see your close Altean friend flourish,  _forgive_ , accept that there are more to people than just what is on their skin, what their culture instigates. A small part of Allura was still clinging to the idea of Lotor somehow manipulating you. Lotor somehow manipulating her. She couldn’t let go of that, not when so much relied on her shoulders as both a Paladin and the last Princess of Altea.

 

Allura chewed on her bottom lip, still hesitant, but did not pull away from Lotor’s grip, “What must I do?”

 

Allura understood now. You were not weak for accepting him. You were  _strong_.  **Brave**.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _Stupid_. You were  _ **so fucking stupid.**_

__

Months passed and you saw Lotor less and less. Yes, there were some days Allura and Lotor allowed you to hover around them while they worked because, well, what are friends for? They spend time together, all three of you, and it was fun. It started out fine, enjoyable even. The three of you sharing different knowledge, different perspectives, different ideas. But there was something growing between Lotor and Allura. Something you refused to believe before your very own eyes.

 

 _Allura_ wouldn’t do that to you.  _Lotor_ wouldn’t do that to you. They were your  _friends_.

 

The first stab was when you kissed him. After a long day of staying cooped up in the lab working on those revolutionary ships, you had asked him to join you for dinner. Some one on one bonding time. It was refreshing, listening to those stories about distant planets and how he once rode a beastly aquatic fish to escape near death. Laughing together, reprimanding him for such recklessness, then he would playfully remind you that he was the Emperor now, and you held no power here. Though, when you pressed your lips against his, you felt something different.

 

He  _hesitated_.

 

The second stab was when you were spending quality time with Allura. Grooming her, braiding her hair, and just reveling in each other’s familiar presence like old times. Her hair was so  _soft_ , but she was so rough. You liked that about her. You liked listening to her talk excitedly about how plans were finally falling into place. Voltron joining the Galra Empire was stronger than ever and peace was finally seeming possible. Yes, you were proud, but your nose tickled in warning.

 

She smelled like  _him_. She had  _his_ scent on her.

 

The killing thrust was happening now. Your hands went numb at the sight of them kissing each other, arms embracing in a gentle hold, one you knew all too well. Eyes closed with a lover’s blush dusting their cheeks, mind lost in each other’s passion. They were completely enamored in the lock and blind to everything around them. This was their moment and you weren’t in their thoughts at all. And just like that, you **shut down.** Your vision glazed over with that dark pit of emptiness and you felt nothing. Not the shake in your knees, not the quickening pace of your heart, not even the pain of knives stabbing into your back.

 

You were their friend. Weren’t you  _supposed_ to be happy for them?

 

They separated when the sound of rocks hit the metal floor. Those gifts seemed so useless now. Geodes, who would ever want them? Ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside. Were they speaking to you? Who called your name? You could see their lips move, see Allura’s eyes widen in surprise and growing realization. Then, you felt something hold onto your limp hand. Slowly, your empty gaze met his, met Lotor’s, and cosmic eyes you once found so beautiful in the dead of night now seemed completely strange to you. Foreign. Who was this man? And why did he hold no remorse, no  _guilt_ , behind those orbs of his?

 

Just slight concern, like there was a little green bug on your nose.

 

Your legs automatically pulled you back, out of Lotor’s grasp, and when the door slid close behind you, Lotor felt  _truly_ shocked.

 

Not because you  _left_ , but because for once in his life, he does not know what to do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

__

You were glad your body’s system shut down like that. It skipped over the pain, locked it away for later, and now in the quiet of your room, you were able to try and process your thoughts. Now, you felt the sickening clench on your gut, now you felt the creeping discomfort claw into your arms. Now, you felt... **alone**. Your chest hurt, either beating too fast or beating too slow, and the tears,  _fuck_ , they just would not stop. No matter how hard you wiped them away, they just kept falling.

 

Then came the sobbing, the wailing, the choking and hiccups that stunted your breathing. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. You wanted to sleep, but it wouldn’t come, so all you could do was find a corner and cage yourself. Imprison yourself for now. You needed time and, thankfully, no one had yet to try and step into your comfort zone. And who would come, anyways? What would Allura say? What would Lotor say? What would  _YOU_ say? You did not want to say anything. You couldn’t say anything. Your voice did not matter.

 

Lost and alone wasn’t even the right words. You felt left behind and forgotten.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lotor had been watching you for quite some time now. He wasn’t sure if you were aware of his presence, for when you looked up, sometimes he would see faint recognition flash behind your eyes. Then, sometimes, that haunting darkness would come back and you would recess deep to the corners of your mind. You would sob violently in one moment then go dead silent the next. These turns of emotions within you greatly disturbed his own confused feelings mixed in his chest. It left him feeling sick, as if there was some black acid in his throat deteriorating his insides.

 

You were docile now. Lotor cautiously grasped your hand and opened your palm, watching your every move to make sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. Then, he placed an oval gemstone in your hand, watching the color switch from peridot green to pitch black. Your eyes glazed back to life, slowly blinking at whatever this was Prince Lotor decided to gift you. He said nothing, for there were no words that came to his silver tongue during this vulnerable moment between the both of you. With you watching, he traced the tip of his finger over the blackened stone. The heat left trails of bright violet in his wake. 

 

It was so... _beautiful_.


	6. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brator has a few things to say about glasses.

“Why do you wear these dastardly… _things_?” Lotor complained, knowing full well why, but wanting to know  _ **why**_ , “They make it terribly difficult for me to kiss your eyes, my darling.” 

His index finger trailed up the side of your face until he could poke insistently at your glasses, as if pestering you enough with his tactics would make you take them off for his own subtle, bratty sake. Your arms wound around his neck, successfully pulling him down to lock lips as a way to appease his skewed logical thinking for now. 

Of course, he smiled into the kiss, easing his heated, naked body down to keep you warm against the chill of the room. Lotor’s hair was a silky mess curtaining over your face so all you could see was him. Him and his glowing sclera cataloging every little bit of your fond after-sex glow. He deepened the kiss to his advantage, tongue tasting the seam of your lips, but you denied him by pulling away. Lotor  _hmph’d_. 

“If I take them off, everything becomes blurry, and I won’t be able to see you,” you explained while brushing your nose with his affectionately, “And I like watching when you…when we…oh, you know!”

That brought a deep chuckle from his chest. Yes, he knows. He knows very  **damn** well what you mean. 

All was well with this nuzzling, until your glasses poked his cheek bone, drawing out an offended noise from him, “These are awful, dear, simply  _awful_. Preventing me from showering you with well-deserved affections. Truly, these glasses aim to cause me nothing but grief and frustration.” 

You laughed lightly at how overly dramatic this man was being due to a pair of obstructing glasses. Lotor’s eyes softened at your smile before solidifying with a teasing decision in mind. He peppered kisses over your face, your cheek, chin, jaw, then the welcoming smoothness of your neck, already littered with love bites and bruises. 

“If I can not kiss you  _there_ , then these lips will be forced to seek refuge somewhere else on your body,” Lotor’s alluring gaze caught yours and you found you could not break away from those mischievous orbs, “And you will keep your eyes on  ** _me_**.”


End file.
